The Tower
by FreshPrinceLover
Summary: Anne Boleyn's last days in The Tower of London.


**It's been so very long since I watched The Tudors. I had to write a piece for my creative writing coursework so I decided to do it on good ol' Anne since she was my favourite.**

**I did research before writing this because I can barely remember anything from the show at all, so this will differ from how the show did it but all my research came from the internet rather than The Tudors, so please excuse any inconsistencies.**

**Anne Boleyn as she awaits execution.**

The Tower

I could barely watch. So far four men had died on my account, executed in the courtyard right outside my window. My friends, near and dear to me, they had stuck with me and believed my plight through all these disgusting accusations. Accusations of witchcraft, treason, adultery and incest, none of which I committed. I know what's the cause of all this and I am fully aware of who put me in this overly plush prison; although it's this, my knowledge and lack of ignorance which brought about these enemies. And so here I am, trapped in the Tower of London, in the very same room I spent the night before my coronation; and now here I am again, awaiting my execution.

I was desperate to tear my bloodshot eyes away from the scene occurring outside, I wanted to hide under my bed covers, to have my women soothe my hair and wipe away my tears, I wanted to be suffocated by it all to the point where I could feel my life exhaling from my body; to die by my own accord rather than by the minions of my treacherous husband. But the next man to be brought to the axe was my beloved brother, George, and I was determined to show him the respect he deserved by witnessing and lamenting this tragedy. The courtyard was only a small one but the crowd within it made enough noise to make you think the entire population of London had turned up for this; their shouting and jeering fell into the background however as George was almost dragged onto the platform. My body was washed with a sudden chill as my breath faltered. The only part of my body I could still feel were my eyes, they stung like they did when I would accidently get powder in them, and my lashes were wet, but whether or not I was actually crying I could not tell.

The routine of the execution went ahead despite the frighteningly loud pounding of blood in my ears. How could they not hear it? It was enough to drive me into hysterics but for the sake of my brother I focused on him, oblivious to everyone else. The top of his shirt was opened further and lowered around his shoulders. He was guided to his knees and his head placed on the block, face away from the masked murderer and away from me. The weapon was gently placed upon his neck once, lifted, placed again, and then lifted. The axe was brought above the executioners head, stilled for a moment, then with precise strength, dealt dear George a swift exit from this life.

I felt neither anguish nor anger. I felt nothing whatsoever. But my body slid down the cold stone wall as my legs collapsed from under me. Hands and skirts were flapping around me but I laid back on the floor and allowed the emotional exhaustion burdening my soul to finally have its way as I drifted into a crushing sleep.

The next few days I spent drifting in and out of consciousness, like the tide creeping up the pebbled beach before withdrawing back in to the depths of the ocean. I did not weep for George like I thought I would, for the first three days after his death I was utterly drained of all emotion, safe from the misery, but hollow. Soon, little brother, I will see you again. We will be reunited, embraced within the ineffable glory of God. Until then I will endure this stifling room with these chattering women; oh I know they love me and I adore them so, but to be welcomed by his benevolence will be the ultimate release.

My execution was to be held on the 18th May, today was the 13th, five days before my death. I woke up in the morning and thought about this. Five days. A bitter presence forced its way out of my chest, I thought it was bile, but it erupted from my mouth in the form of laughter. Ha! My laugh, it was my laugh, just how I remembered it, it had always been slightly less feminine than the other ladies', but it was a pure, uninhibited action and as I sat in my bed, my women watching on in confusion and apprehension, I allowed it to pour out of my shaking body as tears cascaded down my cheeks. The women soon went about their business, choosing to avert their eyes from my inappropriate behaviour. My glee, however, ebbed away and my laughter became maniacal, bursting from my chest in sharp barks as I wrapped my arms tightly around my torso in a futile attempt to control myself. I was soon struggling for breath as the sobs wracked through my body, feeling powerful enough to break my ribs. My ladies fussed about, some holding on to secure me, others fanning me, the window was thrown open and a fresh goblet of water was brought to my bedside, ready for when I needed it. Maybe the Lord had heard me before, maybe I was going to die by suffocation. The thought suddenly terrified me and I demanded myself to calm down. I concentrated on my breathing, working them into regular, manageable inhales and exhales: in, then out, in, then out. My pulse slowed and I took deep breaths, once again I felt tired beyond belief. I took some water, thanking my ladies for their assistance, before burrowing back under the covers for yet another sleep.

I submerged myself in the bath, my goodhearted ladies had placed it in front of the fire and in the middle of their sitting area so we could all chat as the water was kept warm and they could continue with their favourite hobby of sewing. "You know," I began "I've stayed in this room before." A murmur of interest echoed around the room. "Yes, I don't suppose anyone remembers?"

Again, a wave of polite discussion wove its way around the women. "I think I remember you telling me, my Lady. If my memory serves correctly, you told me you stayed within the tower the night before your coronation. It hadn't occurred to me we would be occupying the same room as you did that night. How honoured we are to be held within it."

"You're right, Annabel, though I'm not sure I would use the word honoured for being held captive within these walls."

"Oh, no, my Lady, I meant no offense, I did not mean held intending-."

I chuckled at the girl's embarrassment. "It's quite alright, I understood what you meant." A few comfortably quiet moments passed before I felt the need to speak again. "I was never well received, you know." Their continued silence told me that they did know. "I was Henry's second wife, which unfortunately meant the hearts of the people of England had already been won by Catherine. During her marriage to Henry I became one of her maids in waiting. I suppose not much detail is required as you all know the story. Thereafter Catherine's role within the kingdom became one of great importance." I paused before adding pettily "not to mention she was once of the most beautiful women in the country." The sky outside the window was growing dark. Was it the evening approaching, or rainclouds? I hadn't the interest to ask. "Due to her lack of male heirs Henry grew tired of her and sought out a new bride; I see a trend appearing." I scoffed. "His interest in me obviously led to her resentment towards me, and he went through so much effort to be rid of her. She had my sympathy, and I was a lovesick girl with dreams set on her husband, of course the entire kingdom would behold me with disdain and regard her with love, as the true Queen of England, I was a fool not to have seen it. All this animosity towards me, and I haven't even mentioned my religion yet. But the day is dragging on and this bath is becoming cold." I stood from the water and accept the offered towel. "I would take my supper now, if you please."

The wind whipped through my hair as I rode the mare hard across the grass plains. It had last rained a week ago and with not much sunshine since, it meant the ground was the perfect condition for riding. Why did this feel so liberating? I felt like I was getting the first real gulp of fresh air in weeks. I needed to go home, to see my daughter, I felt grief stricken without her; had she been away? I felt so distant from my Elizabeth, the need to hold her suddenly became overwhelming, I was tempted to jump from the horse and run to her myself, believing my feet would carry me to her faster than anything, but through rational thinking I managed to stay seated and instead kicked the horse into a greater speed in the direction of my child. Where exactly she was I did not know, but I knew I was headed for her.

We approached a thick forest and despite the mare's trepidation I did not allow her to lessen her speed. I knew for certain my home and heart was on the other side of this wood and I knew time was running out. The forest floor was crawling with gnarled old roots, the horse, not being able to avoid all of them at such a speed, would trip with every other step. I felt a sharp pang of guilt clench my gut with every distressed whinny from the creature but I knew she too felt my urgency and understood that we could not stop for anything. Branches whipped our faces, drawing blood, much more blood than I would have expected. My panic rose even higher as I touched my hand to my neck to discover the thick rivulets of bright red blood running down my arm and chest. I was naked, I realised, but my skin was completely covered by the oozing liquid that was beginning to solidify and blacken.

I looked up to see the forest begin to disappear as we neared the end. Through the trees I saw the gardens of Greenwich Palace and in front of them, standing by the tree line I saw a shock of red hair. "Elizabeth!" I screamed, but my voice barely reached my own ears; my throat felt torn and on fire, cold air was seeping into my throat through a gaping wound I knew was at the back of my neck. Elizabeth, my heart and soul, then saw me, she opened her mouth and out of it came a harrowing shriek that penetrated me to my bones as the mare lost the ground beneath her hooves and we both fell through the fissure, into the darkness before slamming into the earth.

I jumped myself awake, wrenching my upper body out of bed and grasping for a hold on something. My chest heaved as sweat dripped from my pores. I had been trying not to think too much of my daughter lest I fall into even deeper melancholy, but whether I liked it or not, I was always searching for her in my sleep.

"I am sorry, my Lady. Please, I understand how upsetting this is for you." Sir Edmund Walsingham was the lieutenant here at the tower; he was the first person I was greeted by upon arriving and he has been nothing but kind and chivalrous since we met, he is the epitome of a true gentleman. But his most recent news has been most upsetting for me.

"How could he do this?" I wept, "His own daughter, to just cast her out like that, all because of him! I knew he'd be the death of me; well, look how right I was."

"Who is to blame? Whom is this man you speak of?"

"Thomas Cromwell: he's the reason I'm here, he's the reason Elizabeth is being declared illegitimate. We've been butting heads ever since I married Henry. You know, of course, of the dismantlement of all of the monasteries and nunneries? Who do you think hammered that idea into Henry's mind? Cromwell's only concern is for wealth and he would drive the country to destruction to achieve his goal. I disagreed with him, yes I wanted reform, but to tear down the monasteries and nunneries means the needy, the sick and the poor will have nowhere to go to for help. The establishments helped those who needed it, meaning there were fewer beggars and criminals left on the street. I let the country know it was Cromwell giving Henry bad advice... I knew I'd be punished for it, but I didn't think Henry would go this far. But with Cromwell whispering in his ear they began to plot against me. They gathered a few bits of feeble evidence against me, thanks to their spies and managed to defeat me and any of my friends who may have stood against them. And now he's declaring Elizabeth to be the offspring of one of my many alleged lovers. This could ruin her life. He is a cruel, cold man, and I hate him with every drop of blood in my body." I turned from Edmund, feeling the urge to admit something I perceived to be unreasonable and folly. "No matter how hard I try however, I can't bring myself to hate Henry. I still love him."

I returned to my window. "He's taken everything from me: he's killed George, stripped Elizabeth of her rights, and sends me to my death. I will take this, my last day to pray to God for the safety of my family, and to receive me into his eternal paradise. Peace awaits us, Edmund, just not in this life."

**I hope you liked it, I got a good grade for it, but it'd be nice to hear what other Tudor fans think of it.**


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